


Unconscionable

by hollow_dweller



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Gen, Jessica Jones is a Good Bro, Misunderstandings, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Orphan Peter Parker, Peter Parker Whump, Team as Family, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Villain Peter Parker, after a fashion, copious amounts of comic book science, it's a bit like a canon depictions of vigilantism meets leverage mashup, kind of, or anything thereafter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_dweller/pseuds/hollow_dweller
Summary: All Peter’s ever wanted to do was honor his Aunt and Uncle’s legacy, make them proud. He wishes that meant that he could graduate high school, go to college, get an amazing job at Stark Industries or Oscorp, create revolutionary tech- all the things they’d talked about him doing, ever since he was 7 years old and had built his first robot out of the scrap electronics one of their neighbors had tossed in the dumpster.But, here's the thing. He can't do those things- not anymore.His Aunt and Uncle also taught him to do what was right, even if it was hard. Even if it cost you- no matter what it cost you.And when you can do the things that Peter can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen?They happen because of you.ORA villain-with-a-heart-of-gold AU wherein Spider-Man steals from the rich and gives to the poor, keeps his powers under wraps- mostly- and does his best to stay away from anything that might bring him into SHIELD’s cross-hairs. That is, until a job has him investigating Stark Industries, and the conspiracy he uncovers sets him on a trail that leads directly to the Avengers.
Relationships: Jessica Jones & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 52
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly spoilery chapter warnings and housekeeping stuff in the end notes.

“Please don’t tell me you’re a Spider-Man fanboy, Parker. I’ll be obligated to stop hanging out with you.” 

Gwen’s lunch tray lands with a thud on the table next to him, and Peter hastily yanks his headphones out of his ears, closing the YouTube video he’d been watching with morbid fascination.

_FRAMING THE SPIDER-MAN??? WHAT THE NYPD DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW!!!_

“N-no, sorry.” He tries on a smile, consciously forcing his shoulders to relax. The cafeteria is loud, and Peter had been too absorbed in the video to hear his friends approaching the table he’d snagged for them. He doesn’t do well with being snuck up on, and should probably know better by now than to let himself get distracted by- well, _other things_ while at school. 

“YouTube rabbit hole." He goes on, voice deliberately casual. "Ever since Unsolved did their episode on him I’ve been getting all kinds of crazy Spider-Man shit in my recommendeds.”

Gwen groans, then slumps against Peter, dropping her head onto his shoulder with as much drama as she can muster. Her dad’s a Captain on the police force, and he knows that she’s grown tired of the discourse that’s been swirling around Spider-Man, ever since the Blackpoole thing came to light. Peter sympathizes; he’s more than tired of the topic, himself. 

MJ and Ned slide into the seats opposite them, and MJ quirks an eyebrow, expression cool. “They wouldn’t keep showing up if you didn’t keep clicking on them.” 

Peter shrugs and says, voice a little wry, “I can’t help it- the conspiracy theories are wild.” Then, seeing the look on Gwen’s face, he adds, “Not that I believe them! Just, you know, they’re um... interesting.” 

Gwen fixes him with a glare, straightening up from her slouch with an indignant huff. “Do you know how pissy my dad has been since that episode came out, and the New York Times ran that story based on it? They made him out to be some kind of, I don’t know, vigilante hero, and now I guess half the calls that come into the Spider-Man tip line are just people telling them to leave him alone.” 

“You kind of have to admit, though, that the Blackpoole thing looks pretty good for him.” Ned says, thoughtful. “C’mon, exposing an insurance company that was actually murdering children? Hard to feel bad about a guy like that.”

Gwen rolls her eyes.“Yeah, but he could have just reported them, like a normal person. You can expose a shady company without beating their CEO half to death and stealing millions of dollars.”

Ned scoffs. “He runs around in a black onesie with a spider insignia on it, I’m pretty sure “being normal” is like the last thing on his priority list. Besides, I bet in super-villain-land it makes perfect sense to go with violence and robbery first, alerting the authorities second.”

Peter, who has been sinking lower and lower in his seat as the conversation progresses, straightens up at that, unable to prevent an indignant squawk from escaping. “Super-villain? That- that seems like an exaggeration.” His voice has gone a little higher than he meant it to, and he clears his throat before going on, in a more normal tone. “I mean, before Unsolved did their thing, nobody outside of New York had even heard of the dude.” 

Ned shrugs. “He wears a costume and does crime, dude. Super-villain.” 

MJ speaks up then, propping her chin on her hand and looking at Peter with a gaze that’s sharp enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck. “Why does it matter? You’re not actually a Spider-Man fanboy, are you?” 

Gwen hits him on the arm. “Peter!” 

“Top 10 anime betrayals,” Ned sniggers, helpfully. 

“Ok, no. First of all- ow. Second of all, I just think that makes him a bigger thing than he is, right? Super-villain makes him sound like, I don’t know, Avengers-class or something. And he’s uh, definitely not that.” 

At that, Gwen laughs. “Can you imagine? The Avengers would wipe the floor with him.” 

Peter nods weakly as Ned laughs and MJ smirks, but doesn’t respond. There’s a brief lull in the conversation, the noise of the cafeteria ebbing around them, and then Ned asks MJ about the decathlon team’s upcoming schedule of practices and “educational excursions”. He’s been trying to sell her on the MOMA, while Gwen has been insisting that she’s sure they could get Harry to swing them another visit to Oscorp’s labs. Just like that, the conversation moves on. 

Peter keeps quiet and pokes at his food, Gwen’s words rattling around his skull. 

_“The Avengers would wipe the floor with him.”_

Doesn’t he know it.

* * *

It’s hours later, after school and decathlon practice, when Peter’s work phone buzzes. 

_got a job for you_

_if you’re not too busy with your buzzfeed-induced fame_

_i didn’t ASK them to do a video about me_

_wait you watch buzzfeed unsolved???_

_Spidey_

_right, job_

_yeah, probably. any hints?_

_i’m not doing anything with Danny Rand again, not after last time_

_Oscorp. dead guy._

_Where am I meeting you, your office?_

_nope. meet me at the scene. bring your stuff, you’ll only get one chance at this. i gotta call the cops with this one, eventually._

_131st and 5th. room 503._

_got it_

When Peter arrives at the scene, in a run-down neighborhood on the island, Jessica Jones is waiting for him. 

She doesn’t blink when she sees him at the window, only pushes away from the wall she was leaning against and walks over to unlatch it. She looks the same to Peter as she ever does, jeans and a beat-up leather jacket, hands gloved both to ward against the early-October air and prevent fingerprint transfer, he imagines. Her face is blank, nothing to indicate to Peter what he might be walking into. 

He slides the window open and crawls inside. The apartment is tiny, a shoebox of a living room attached to a kitchenette, and two doors that probably lead to a bathroom and bedroom. One of the doors is ajar. The walls and carpet are filthy, water damage evident on the moldings and ceiling, but there’s no furniture, no garbage. No evidence that anyone lived there.

Peter can smell the copper tang of blood, from the next room over, and the faintly sweet hint of decay. He doesn’t think either smell would be considered strong, by normal standards- it’s edging into fall and the apartment is cool, so no heat to speed up the decomposition process. The body must be relatively fresh. 

Despite Peter’s line of work, so to speak, he rarely has to deal with dead bodies. Most of the time, if murder is involved, he’ll steal police investigation records to get what he needs. A lot of the time, there’s no body to be dealt with at all- the people Peter goes after are very good at burying evidence. 

“Hey Spidey,” she says, and despite the disinterest in her tone, the seriousness of the situation, he thinks she’s glad to see him. He’s glad to see her too- they don’t typically cross paths unless their work does, but they text, on occasion, and he considers her a friend. She doesn’t know who he is, doesn’t seem inclined to find out, and Peter appreciates that (especially since he knows she probably could, if she really wanted to). He has other friends in- or at least adjacent to- his business, but they’re all much more curious about what’s under Peter’s mask. 

Peter gets it, really, since he makes it a mission to find out the real identity of every masked vigilante he comes across, but he’s careful to make sure they can’t return the favor. If he ever comes under more intense scrutiny than that of the NYPD, or if they decide to get really serious about finding him, he doesn’t want anyone he associates with to have to worry about choosing loyalty to him over their own safety or freedom.

If no one has the information, they can’t be targeted for it. 

Jessica is chill about it though, and doesn’t even ask for another name to call him, despite how obvious she makes it that she thinks his working name is stupid. She just calls him Spidey, or sometimes Spider-twerp when she’s feeling particularly affectionate, and leaves it at that. 

“Hi Jessica,” he greets back, more reserved than he normally would be. “Wanna tell me about the, y’know-” He gestures toward the open door, where he imagines the body must be. 

“Dr. Alec Spencer, aged 41. Mrs. Spencer hired me to track him down, the usual thing. He’s got some prestigious gig in R&D at Oscorp, married to his work, always pulling long hours. But lately he’s different, right? Shifty. Out of the house even longer, now she barely sees him. Then one day, about a week ago, boom. He doesn’t come home, and she’s sure he’s run off with his 20-something year old mistress. 

“So she hires me to track him down, and after some digging I find he’s renting a little apartment in Manhattan under a pseudonym. I figure, great, found the love nest.” 

Peter looks around the bare room, then raises an eyebrow. She can’t see it, with the mask and all, but she gets the gist. 

“Yeah I know, I know. I didn’t exactly Google Earth it, ok? I just headed over, figured I’d get Mrs. Spencer her evidence so she can file for divorce, and be on my merry way. But I get in here, and, well.”

Peter grimaces. “He’s dead.”

“He’s dead.”

It could have been the mistress, or maybe his wife, or maybe something else entirely. But if it had been any of those, Jessica wouldn’t have texted him. She’d have called the cops and been done with it. There’s obviously something, something on the body, maybe, that made her think this was his jurisdiction. 

Peter takes a deep breath. Lets it out. 

“Show me.”

* * *

Alec Spencer is laying on a mattress, fully clothed, with a hole in the center of his forehead. Blood has soaked into the mattress below him, which is placed directly on the floor, bare of any bedding. There aren’t even any pillows. 

A laptop bag is in the corner, and Peter can see some clothes spilling out of it and a toothbrush poking out of one of the side pockets. The laptop itself is sitting on a desk, open and turned on. The desk and its chair are the only pieces of actual furniture in the room. They look cheaply made, but not old. 

Jessica’s voice breaks the silence. “The furniture is new, even the mattress, and I found receipts for it in his bag- looks like he bought the bare minimum so he could set up shop.” 

That makes Peter pause. He hadn’t looked in the fridge, but he hadn’t seen or smelled any food waste. “Furniture but no food?” 

“There was a receipt for a nearby cafe, I think he was probably going out to eat.” Something flashes across Jessica’s face, then she looks away. “Besides, he hasn't been here long. The furniture was purchased this morning.” 

Peter flinches, and nods. “Car in the parking lot?”

“Yeah. Nothing in it, or at least nothing useful.”

Jessica doesn’t say anything more, but she jerks her head over toward the desk. Curious, Peter sees that there’s an open planner sitting next to the laptop. As he draws nearer, he can read a note, written in bold letters and circled twice: MEET WITH T.S.

The meeting, it looks like, was set for tomorrow. 

Something cold trickles down Peter’s spine, and he can feel the hair on his arms standing on end. He looks over at Jessica. “I’m gonna guess you know who T.S. is?” 

Jessica nods, then carefully pulls a business card out of her pocket and hands it to him. It’s expensive, made of good cardstock and done in a matte black. All it says is a name, and a phone number, in gold lettering. No company, no title. 

Then again, Tony Stark doesn’t exactly need to put a company or title on his business card. The name is more than enough. 

Peter takes a moment to gather himself, then hands the card back to Jessica. “Absolutely not.” 

“Spidey-”

“I don’t mess with Avengers Jess, you know that.”

She raises an eyebrow, both at the nickname and the tone. “What, you’ll take down every other corrupt corporation in this city, except Stark Industries? They get a pass because Tony Stark is a superhero?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s not- they don’t _get a pass_. I’ve never had any reason to believe Stark’s involved in anything- anything bad. And I stay away from law enforcement in general, including the Avengers. Or have you forgotten that I’m a wanted criminal?” 

She snorts. “You have no problem going after cops, or feds, or literally any other branch of law enforcement I have ever seen come across your path.” 

He clenches his jaw. Balls up his fists. Relaxes them. “I’m allowed to be scared of things, Jess.” 

That surprises her, he can tell from the look on her face. They both stand there for a moment, staring at each other, silence swelling between them. Then Jessica sighs. “Listen, I get it if you don’t want to tangle with Stark, or his merry band of misfits. I’m not making you do anything. But a guy is dead, and he works for a company I think we can both agree is evil even if we can’t prove it, and he’s walking around with Earth’s Best Defender’s business card in his pocket. That’s bad news. 

“I’d get into this myself, but I don’t have the skills or the knowledge. This isn’t regular PI shit; this is Spider-Man shit, and we both know it.” 

Peter’s heart is beating too fast in his chest; he can hear the pulse of it thrumming in his ears. When he doesn’t say anything, Jessica steps toward him. She pokes him in the forehead, then lays a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got your back on this, Spider-twerp. Whatever you do.”

He closes his eyes. Takes a breath in through his nose. Lets it out through his mouth. 

“Spider-Man shit, ok.” He opens his eyes. “Let me take a look at the laptop.”

* * *

The laptop is a dead end. 

He takes it from the scene, because he needs more time to look at it and Jessica needs to call the cops. They leave everything else, including the business card (which Jess had pulled from Spencer’s pocket), but if there’s anything on the laptop Peter knows he’ll have a better chance of finding it than any of the cops would. They’ll know someone was there, that someone took it, but there’s no surveillance cameras in or around the building, so they won’t know who. 

Jessica is going to hang out and give her statement, which makes Peter’s anxiety spike, but she’s quick to brush his concern away. She’s dealt with this before; she’s a PI who was hired to find a guy, then did. Nobody saw her arrive, so nobody can corroborate when exactly she found the body. She has no motive, and suspicion will move on from her quickly. 

Peter still spends the rest of the night and the next day anxiously checking his phone, ducking into empty classrooms or slinking away to the bathroom to check it without his friends asking about it. They can tell he’s jumpy about something, but that’s, well. Pretty typical, for Peter. 

She texts him, late, the following evening, and he nearly crushes his phone in his haste to respond to her. 

_alive and un-arrested_

_jfc that took long enough_

_glad to hear it_

_don’t be so relieved spider-twerp, i totally sold you out_

_:)_

_ok well thanks for letting me know_

_any time_

Whoever wiped the laptop knew what they were doing. There’s no trace of what Alec Spencer was working on, who he might have communicated with, not even anything in his browser history. If the laptop weren’t littered with dents and the normal grime accumulated by a well-used electronic, he’d say it was brand-new. 

_hey no chance there was a receipt for a laptop there, maybe from a pawn shop??_

_nope._

_what happened to his phone?_

_gone. i would have given that to you too, genius_

_just making sure_

_laptops a bust_

_i’m beginning to think the planner + card was only there because someone wanted them found_

_yep_

_doesn’t let Stark off the hook, tho_

_yeah, i know_

_i’m gonna need more_

_time for some spidey-sleuthing_

_wow_

_if you ever say that to me again i will punch you so hard you’ll land in jersey_

_;)_

_don’t try me, Spidey_

_you know i can_

Peter doesn't respond, laying his phone down on the coffee table, next to the frustratingly unhelpful laptop. He rolls off the couch, where he's been lying down, staring up at the ceiling. Walks over to the window, presses his forehead against the cool glass. Tries to think. 

In the last three years, Peter has investigated- and brought down- his fair share of skeevy corporations and skeevier business men. It’s kind of his thing. He’s done some work in organized crime, yeah, but that’s more Matt’s domain than his. He’s poked into police and government corruption, ok, a lot, but usually as collateral to whatever company he’s investigating. The Blackpoole thing is probably the largest job he’s ever taken- or at least the largest one that’s been attributed to him- and it was certainly the flashiest, but it is by no means the only. 

He’s got experience, is the point. And that experience is telling him that whatever got Alec Spencer killed probably falls into one of two scenarios. There's not really enough information to say for sure, but Peter's got a feeling.

Either Alec Spencer planned to defect to Stark Industries with his research, and Oscorp killed him for it, or he lied about defecting to Stark Industries with his research, and Stark Industries killed him for it. 

Someone wants him- or more accurately, the authorities who are formally investigating this- to believe it’s the latter, that much is clear. And yeah, Peter is, for many and varied reasons, inclined towards blaming Oscorp for, well, anything and everything, really. 

But that’s just Peter, and as much as he does not- and he _truly_ does not- want to do anything that will draw the Avengers’ attention, he knows he needs more information. There's two places he can go, he’s fairly certain, to get the information that he needs. But one of those places is currently home to the World’s Mightiest Heroes, and the other one is… not. 

No contest, really. Time to pay a visit to Oscorp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: For this chapter, some mild blood and *Steve voice* language.
> 
> General notes: Every time I think I've written the most self-indulgent thing to ever be writ, I go ahead and outdo myself. I know there are other “the Avengers think Peter is a bad guy but he’s actually just baby” fics, and I love all of them. This is, I hope, a little different, in that Peter actually did do all the things they think he did- just not for the reasons they think he did them. 
> 
> Timeline notes: Pretty majorly AU from, well, everything. I’m borrowing characters from across the MCU and SUC, including the TV shows, but the timelines are… fuzzy, and basically nothing is fully canon compliant. This is set vaguely post-Civil War, but there was no airport/Siberia fight and everyone talked things out like adults. Peter is 17, which would theoretically make this set in 2018. Everyone lives in the tower as fanon foretold, etc etc. There be no IW or Endgame in sight. 
> 
> Additional housekeeping: Updates may be sporadic due to the world being on fire. Tags may update as I go, though I think I’ve captured the major ones. Since I CNTW’d, each chapter will have any specific warnings in the end notes, as necessary. I don’t anticipate much, but who knows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really want to thank everyone for all the kudos and kind words on the first chapter- i'm so glad to see that people are enjoying this so far. this chapter fought me, but hopefully it won't be another goddamn month before the next one. who knows though, the world is on fire, etc etc. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

Two days after Jessica calls him to look at Alec Spencer’s body, Peter breaks into Oscorp. 

Even in all the time that he’s been doing the Spider-Man thing, the only concrete proof he’s ever come across that Oscorp might be involved in something shady was, well, his own existence. Peter’s a firm believer in flying under the radar- unexpected Buzzfeed specials notwithstanding- so until now, he’s resisted the temptation to poke his nose into Oscorp’s business. He doesn’t want to attract the attention of men like Norman Osborn unless he has a good reason, or solid evidence of wrongdoing, or both. 

Peter thinks a dead man falls pretty firmly into the category of “both”. 

So Peter’s only ever been to the building a few times before, and those visits had all been sanctioned. Harry Osborn’s attendance at Midtown means that the labs are a favorite for school trips, and Peter’s met Harry here a few times for projects and tutoring sessions, commandeering an empty conference room when the library was closed and Harry hadn’t wanted to go home. 

Peter’s not overly familiar with the layout of the building, but he’s been here often enough to have a general sense for where things are located. The labs are in the lower floors, with clearance levels and research sensitivity increasing the further underground you go. Alec Spencer’s lab is almost certainly in this area of the building, Peter’s sure, and a few years ago that’s where he’d have started his search.

Oscorp is like most companies, in that their approach to security is both advanced and outdated. If Peter had tried to hack into their systems through the internet, or broken into the lower levels where Oscorp’s prototypes were physically housed, he’d have had problems. He has no doubt that Oscorp’s cyber-security is top-notch, and he’s seen the armed security personnel in the labs for himself on his trips here. 

But Peter’s learned a few things about how companies operate in the last few years, so after accessing the building’s elevator shaft through its rooftop hatch, he only climbs down a few floors, where the administrative offices are located. Pausing briefly just before the elevator doors to the 16th floor, he can hear the murmur of voices from security personnel echo along the building’s empty corridors. They’re several floors away, at least, and they seem static- neither coming closer nor fading away. He assumes the patrols, if they even come up this far, must be on a fixed schedule- probably hourly, if he were to guess. If all goes well, he’ll be out of here long before then. 

A couple seconds with his electronic lockpick- a TI-80 graphing calculator that he modified himself- gets the elevator doors open, and then he’s out into the building proper, crawling along the ceiling above empty cubicles. From here, Peter can only hear the sounds of security’s voices if he strains himself, and the silence and stillness is a little unsettling. All empty office buildings have a particular aura of malevolent vacancy to them, and Oscorp’s headquarters are no different. 

This floor doesn’t have any visible security cameras. It’s possible that they’re hidden, embedded in the walls potentially, but Peter doubts it. White collar workers usually bristle at the idea that their employer could be monitoring them, and with the traditional and cyber security Oscorp has for the labs and their data, installing cameras on these floors was likely not worth the hassle. 

Peter sets himself up at a random desk and gets to work. In a perfect world he’d be doing this in an executive’s office, because the higher up the food chain he starts, the easier things are, but the logistics of accessing those offices are almost always a nightmare, especially for a company of Oscorp’s size. The security there would almost certainly be tighter, and the point of this is to get in and out as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. 

He’s got a lock chip that gets him into the system, and from there it’s not that difficult to hack his way through the access restrictions on this particular employee’s account. Then he gets to work, pulling up everything he can about one Dr. Alec Spencer.

* * *

The next day at school is a struggle to get through. MJ takes to kicking him throughout the classes they share, just to keep him awake, and it’s only sheer force of will- and his healthy and reasonable fear of what she would do if he skipped decathlon, _again_ \- that keeps him from ditching midway through the day and going home to nap. 

He’d spent as long as he could at Oscorp the night before, until he’d heard security begin their rounds a few floors away. After that, he was up until nearly dawn, sorting through all the data he’d collected, making notes and starting to pull together a picture of what Spencer’s employment at Oscorp had looked like. 

The man had had a model career there- started as an intern fresh off defending his thesis, worked his way up until he’d finally made it to section head within the R&D division, wracking up generally glowing performance reviews over his 10+ years with the company. All until 2 weeks prior, when he was summarily fired for violating his non-competition clause. 

The details of the termination are scarce, but everything checks out, paperwork-wise. His signature and the date are on the termination papers, and the handwriting matches everything else in his file. That doesn’t preclude it from being a forgery, of course, but there’s nothing immediately suspicious about any of it- aside from the fact that Alec Spencer had died less than a fortnight afterwards. 

MJ kicks him again, jolting him out of his thoughts. He’d been sitting with his head down on his arms in the back of his biology class, blatantly not paying attention to the lecture. Peter’s not entirely sure that was necessary- Mr. Emilson doesn’t care if they’re following along in class as long as their homework gets done- but he straightens up regardless. The bruises on his shins will fade before school lets out, but MJ wears heavy boots- Peter suspects for this exact purpose- and they _hurt_. 

He frowns at her. She holds up a very unflattering- but accurate- sketch of his slack, sleeping face. 

From her other side, Gwen tosses a note onto his desk. Ned’s not in this class with them, but his seatmate Cindy is used to this kind of thing between the three of them, and doesn’t even look over from where she’s scrolling through twitter on her phone. 

_what is UP with you today?????_

He just shakes his head at her and MJ both, then turns toward the front of the class, wondering, not for the first time, if he could teach himself to sleep sitting straight up with his eyes open. 

His friends are not so easily deterred, however, and they corner him at his locker after class finally lets out.

“Seriously, Peter, what's going on?” Gwen leans against the row of lockers, scowling at him. 

“Yeah dude, you’re like extra weird. Beyond your usual weird, weird.” That’s MJ, standing far enough away to not make him feel legitimately crowded, but close enough that he couldn’t get past her without pushing. 

He twitches his lips at her. “ _Hella_ weird?” 

She reaches out and yanks on one of his curls in retaliation. 

“My guy, if you keep this up we’re gonna have to invoke the Homecoming Code.” 

He pulls a face. “Ok it’s not nearly _that_ bad. I’m just- I haven’t been sleeping well.” 

Homecoming of his sophomore year had been a disaster, of truly epic proportions. He’d still been staying with a foster family, then, and trying to balance his usual teenage life with his extracurriculars. He’d taken a job above his pay grade, before he’d known anyone else in the business who could help him keep his head above water, and- well. The less that was said about all that, the better. 

His friends, in the dark as to the extent of his problems but determined to help him nevertheless, had had to stage an intervention to keep him from completely falling apart. They’d pulled him back from the ledge, and ever since he’d been careful about keeping a better balance between everything. Some weeks were worse than others, though, and this just happened to be… one of them. 

But he was fine, really. Eating and sleeping more than he had been at the worst of it, and not even a single collapsed building on the books, yet. On a scale of bad jobs, this one barely even registered. 

So far, anyway. 

He can tell from the looks on their faces that they’re skeptical, but Ned interrupts them. 

“What are we doing? Is this a Peter interrogation? Am I missing it? Why didn’t you guys post that there was going to be a Peter interrogation in the group chat?” 

Gwen opens her mouth to reply, but Harry walks up on Ned’s other side, and she switches gears fast. Harry is a good guy, and Gwen’s uncle is a high-ranking executive at Oscorp, so she and Harry have known each other since they were kids. But Harry had transferred to Midtown later in their sophomore year, and had subsequently missed the worst of the Homecoming debacle. He was also handsome, smart, funny, and the heir to one of the largest technological and biomedical conglomerates in the world, in a school jam-packed with future STEM majors. He was popular, and didn’t spend all his time with their fairly-insular group. He was a friend, but he was _everyone’s_ friend, which meant he wasn’t quite at Homecoming Code levels of closeness. 

“Just trying to get him to tell MJ how he really feels about our plans for the decathlon team’s next ‘educational excursion’.” Mr. Harrington had called their quarterly trips that once, and the team had promptly and unilaterally decided to never let him hear the end of it. Even when Mr. Harrington wasn’t around to torment, the name had stuck. 

Harry grins, then slings a friendly arm around Peter’s shoulders. “And how _do_ you feel about the _educational excursion_ , Pete?” 

Peter sighs, but doesn’t shrug him off. “I don’t know. Gwen, how do I feel?” 

“Well,” she drawls. “Obviously you feel that a trip to Oscorp would be particularly edifying and productive. And oh! Wouldn’t you know it, here’s our good friend Harry _Osborn_ to help us out with arranging it, too.” 

Gwen is already angling for a summer internship at Oscorp, despite the semester just having started, and although she is not interested in leveraging her uncle’s position there to get one of the coveted spots, she is absolutely not above cashing in on Harry’s friendship to get the chance to visit and network in the labs as frequently as possible. 

MJ sniffs. “I don’t support nepotism and I cannot be coerced. You all will find out about our destination after the weekend during Tuesday’s meeting, _like I told you_.” 

Gwen grins and holds her hands up in mock-surrender. 

Harry’s hand, warm even through the fabric of Peter’s shirt, squeezes his shoulder briefly. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble Gwen, but I don’t think there’s going to be any outsider trips to Oscorp in the next few weeks, at least.” 

Gwen tilts her head. “Oh?” 

“Yeah, apparently something went wrong with the server last night, and a bunch of our data got scrambled. I heard my Dad on a call about it this morning.” 

It’s a testament to how long Peter’s been doing this that he doesn’t stiffen, but it’s a close-run thing. 

Ned’s eyes widen, lighting up with excitement. “Like a hack? Dude, did you guys get hacked? How did they get through your systems- they must be really good!” 

“We didn’t get hacked, man.” Harry scoffs. “Or at least they don’t think so. Just an issue with the servers going down and not rebooting properly. But standard procedure is to close ranks when something like this happens, in case it is a security breach, so. No educational excursions for Midtown high’s special nerd club.” 

Peter pokes him in the side. “Hey, that’s National Championship Winning Special Nerd Club, to you.” 

Harry pokes him back, then slides his arm up until it’s hooked firmly around his neck, tugging Peter away from the bank of lockers and beginning to tow him down the hallway. Ned walks backward in front of them, peppering Harry with questions about Oscorp’s cyber-security, and Peter can hear Gwen teasingly prod MJ about the upcoming decathlon trip as the girls bring up the rear. 

Together, they shamble off to their next class. Peter focuses on the soothing familiarity of his friends' chatter and lets himself relax into Harry's side, putting all thoughts of Oscorp and Alec Spencer's tenure there out of his head, for the moment.

* * *

Later that night, Peter’s slumped in his computer chair, scrolling idly through the data he’d pulled from Oscorp’s servers, when his phone buzzes. 

_hey so looks like our guy was fired from his Oscorp gig_

_little less than a week ago_

_how did you find out about that?_

_got a call from his widow, she’s pretty suspicious about the whole thing_

_wants me to stay on the case_

_how did you find out about that?_

_hacked oscorp, obviously_

_obviously_

Peter frowns. Jessica’s usually pretty hands-off after she tosses a job his way. If she’s texting him again about Spencer, then either something else about the case is bugging her, or something new has come up. 

_are you still on this case?_

_why, 'fraid i’ll cramp your style, Spidey?_

_fraid i’ll cramp yours tbh_

_wasn’t sure you wanted to get involved with the whole_

_thing_

_i don’t_

_Stark and Osborn are all yours_

_gee thanks, just what i always wanted_

_i’m a giver_

_so uh- what are you getting involved in, exactly?_

_Oscorp cut his benefits when they booted him, so no life insurance payout for her_

_no severance???_

_they’re claiming that since he never actually answered them when they called him about it, he forfeited any severance_

_woooooowwwwwwwwww_

_yeah_

_so whatever you got that’s suspicious, let me know_

_she’s trying to build a case_

_she got a good lawyer?_

_i know a guy_

_funnily enough, so do i_

Peter smiles a bit at the long-running joke, but something about the conversation snags in his mind. He scrolls up again, reading through Jessica's texts. He frowns, then returns to the documents on his computer, clicking over to the personnel file. He reads through Spencer's termination letter again, then picks up his phone. 

_you said he was fired about a week ago- did his wife tell you that?_

_uh, yeah. he left work one friday, never went home, didn't show up for work the following week_

_that's why she assumed he ran off_

_and they told her when she called about the insurance?_

_they called her a few times the week after he disappeared to see where he was_

_then booted him_

_so the last day we know he was at work was the 21st?_

_uh yeah_

_what's wrong_

_that's when his termination letter is dated, which was signed by him_

_apparently_

He sees typing bubbles pop up, then stop. Then start again. 

_doesn't make a whole lot of sense for them to call her about attendance of a guy they know was fired_

_sure doesn't_

_well damn_

_ok Spidey, any other revelations you got for me?_

_not yet_

_trying to figure out what he was working on_

_you got R &D data? _

_nah, that stuff's all on a different server_

_harder for me to get to_

_so what do you look at instead?_

_project management office documents, mostly_

_sounds thrilling_

_bless corporate bullshit_

_if you say so_

Jess isn't wrong to be skeptical- going through the documents is tedious. The files are arranged by the employee managing the project, not the people working on it, so he's run a script that will detect all mentions of Alec Spencer- either by name or employee number- as well as his specific department somewhere in the file. From there, it's a lot of wading through briefs and concept documents and budgets and Gantt charts, and all that has to be done manually. Add to that that there's none of the actual scientific data- formulas, test results, any of it- in the files, and you end up with a far from perfect system. But as long as they didn't scrub any mention of whatever it was he was working on before he was fired- which is not an impossibility- then there should be something here that can point Peter in the right direction. 

He just has to find it.

* * *

It takes nearly an entire weekend’s worth of scouring the documents. 

It’s a footnote, really, that tips him off. The project predates Spencer’s employment at Oscorp by over a decade- the original project sponsor is Dr. Mendel Stromm, who google informs Peter was a chemical engineer and one of Oscorp’s first-ever employees, before he died suddenly in a car crash in the 80’s. The details around his death are sparse- a quick hack into the NYPD’s files reveals that only the barest of investigations was conducted before the death was ruled an accident- and that immediately sets Peter’s teeth on edge. Oscorp’s boom hadn’t come until the early 90’s, long after Stromm’s death, and the most mention of him in the press is as a passing reference in long-winded profiles about Norman Osborn’s meteoric rise to power- the tragic loss of a dear friend and brilliant collaborator only providing that much more motivation to propel the mogul forward in his career. 

Peter’s disgusted by the callousness of it, but not surprised. The same thing happens when the press talks about Obadiah Stane and his sudden- _and suspicious_ , Peter’s mind whispers to him, whenever the topic comes up- death by pilot error. This is despite the fact that Stane had been famous in his own right and a major player in Stark Industries for over 3 decades. Nowadays he’s only ever mentioned as a footnote in Tony Stark’s biography, one in a long line of catalysts leading to the birth of Iron Man. 

This isn’t the only project that Peter has found Stromm’s name on, but it is the only one that’s carried through in the intervening years between his death and the present day. It looks like the original project goal was the development of some kind of biogenic chemical compound intended for “medical applications”, though nothing in the documents say what specifically those applications could be. The details in the file are lacking, not even containing a project brief or high-level concept document, which is suspicious in and of itself. Even more so is the fact that the project appears to have been opened and closed repeatedly over the years, jumping from sponsor to sponsor and project manager to project manager. 

The only details enclosed in the file are brusque notations indicating every time the project had transferred hands, the second last of which indicates that the project had been reopened by R&D department number 616- Alec Spencer’s department- 3 months prior. The last note is dated September 19th, 2018. When Peter finds it, he stares at the final notation for a long moment, before picking up his phone and thumbing open his encrypted messaging application. 

_so uuuuhhhhhh quick question_

_...what_

_if I were to say the words “Goblin Formula” to you, what would come to mind?_

_just curious_

_…_

_Goblin Formula_

_ye_

_jesus fucking christ_

_kind of sounds like the kind of thing a dude might get murdered over, yeah_

_uh, yeah_

_it’s like they’re not even trying to be subtle_

_not everyone’s as genre-aware as us_

_clearly_

Peter takes a photo of the file, which he’s printed out to tack on the cork-board he uses while working a job. He sends it to Jess. 

_September 19th, 2018: Goblin Formula clinical trials failed. Project terminated on orders of N. Osborn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: Tony POV!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much to everyone who commented and kudos'd the last chapter. As promised, here is some Tony POV, and y'all didn't even have to wait a month for it. 
> 
> WARNINGS: For this chapter, some violence and blood. Nothing too graphic I don't think, but it's there.

As far as methods of grabbing Tony's attention go, intercepting him and his fiancée as they return to their car after a nice night out- their first night out in a long while, which is 100% Steve Rogers' workaholism's fault and has absolutely nothing to do with Tony himself, _Pepper_ \- is effective, but, well, not among his favorites.

The guy appears out of nowhere, emerging out of the shadows in the dimly-lit lot, pale face shining in the dark like a ghost. He comes around the hood of the car, reaching towards where Tony is holding the rear passenger door open for Pepper, but the guy barely gets a hand on his arm and a strained, "Stark, wait-" out before he's being yanked away. Happy, who had been patiently waiting for them to finish their meal, is out the driver’s side door and slamming the guy down against the hood of the car before Tony really even registers what's happening. 

Tony's no slouch himself when it comes to responding promptly to sudden and unforeseen danger, but damn. For a big guy, Happy can strike like a fucking snake when he wants to. 

Pepper startles back, heels clicking against the concrete. Tony steps between her and the guy, armor unfolding from his watch to encase his wrist. A dull whine fills the air as his propulsor charges up, and he levels it at the guy’s face. 

“Please, please, I don’t-” the man pants, sounding frightened. “I don’t mean any harm.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony scoffs. “In my experience people who don’t mean any harm also don’t corner people in dark parking lots.” 

The man draws in a trembling breath. “I’m sorry, it was- it was the only way I knew to track you down.” 

Tony doesn’t withdraw his arm. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns his head in time to see Pepper pull her phone out of her bag. She looks pale, but her gaze is level and steely. _Atta girl_ , Tony thinks fondly. She quirks an eyebrow at him, holding her phone up, questioningly. He looks back at the man. 

“You’ve got 10 seconds to tell me what you want before Ms. Potts here calls the cops on your ass.” He keeps his voice low, and cold. The man shakes his head as much as he can in Happy’s grip. 

“Please don’t, I can’t- I need your help.” 

Despite himself, Tony lowers his arm a fraction. He’s hard pressed to deny a call for help. It occurs to him that the guy’s fear may not be because of Tony or Happy. At least, not entirely. 

“Okay,” Tony says, drawing the word out, “I’ll bite. What do you need help with?” 

“My name is Alec Spencer. I’m a biochemist. My employers are doing something- it's bad. I work for Oscorp-” he blurts, voice urgent, but this time Pepper cuts him off. 

“Stop. We can’t hear any more.” She places a delicate hand on Tony’s arm and tugs on it, lightly. “Stark Industries doesn’t engage in corporate espionage, Mr. Spencer.” 

“Listen to me!” For the first time, the guy struggles against Happy’s hold. Happy doesn’t budge. “This isn’t about Stark Industries!” 

“What is about, then?” Tony asks, curious. Pepper’s hand squeezes his arm in warning, and she’s right to be concerned- they could land themselves in some pretty hot water if anyone found out they’d accepted insider information on a competitor. But Tony's interest is piqued- he can't help himself from prodding the guy along.

“I need- I need help from the Avengers.” 

Tony straightens. “Oscorp is involved in something you need the Avengers for?” That was… not good. Not entirely surprising- Oscorp has been on SHIELD’s radar for years- but Norman Osborn is a nasty piece of work. He could be cooking up any manner of things in those labs of his. 

Spencer nods. Tony looks at his pale, sweaty face for another long moment, then jerks his head at Happy in a signal to let him up. Happy does, brow furrowed in a reluctant frown, and moves away a few paces. He keeps a hand in his jacket. 

Tony looks around the lot. It’s empty of anyone else, but he feels exposed. The armor retracts from his hand at a word, and he rubs his wrist idly. “Alright Sherron Watkins, let’s get you somewhere so you can tell us all about it.” 

To Tony’s surprise, Spencer begins to shake his head frantically, backing away slightly. Happy moves toward him, but stops when Tony raises a hand. 

“I still have some evidence I need to get- I’m meeting a friend tomorrow who’s going to pass along the documents. This thing that Oscorp is doing…” he trails off, with a shudder. “You’re going to need all the ammo you can get. Can we meet in two days' time? I’ll have everything I need, then.” 

Tony frowns. He doesn’t like it- a lot can happen in two days. Before he can object, however, Pepper steps in. “Tony, even if this is Avengers business, we can’t take any testimony from him, not without lawyers or SHIELD agents there. It’s a conflict.” 

Spencer looks pained. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have bothered you, it’s just-” 

Tony sighs. “Yeah, it’s not like Cap or Black Widow wander around downtown Manhattan all the time.” They do, as a matter of fact, but they’re both very good at getting around without being noticed. Take them out of uniform and it’s amazing how people’s eyes pass right over them. Tony doesn’t have that luxury- he’s always in uniform. 

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a card. It’s his personal one, the one that doesn’t route directly to an assistant. He hands it to Spencer, who takes it in trembling hands. “I’ll set up time with the team. Come to the Tower at 10 AM, Wednesday. If you need anything before then, call that number.” He catches Spencer’s eyes with his own. “Anything at all. If you call, I’ll come.” 

Something relaxes in Spencer’s body, for the first time. He smiles. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” 

Then he turns, walking over to the far end of the lot. It’s shrouded in darkness, but Tony can see him get into a car and drive off. Happy watches him go as well, then looks back at Tony and Pepper. 

“Well, that was fun. Can we get moving now?” 

Tony nods, but he’s frowning. Pepper’s hand, still on his arm, slides down until she’s slipping it into his palm. She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, then tugs him gently into the waiting car.

* * *

Spencer never shows for their meeting. The police, however, do. 

Tony’s gathered Nat and Sam for this, and together they’ve decided to hold off on bringing in SHIELD agents, yet. He’s briefed Maria Hill, but she agrees to let them handle it until SHIELD’s involvement becomes necessary. Nat’s technically SHIELD in any case, and a human lie detector besides- she’ll be invaluable for figuring out if the guy’s story, whatever it is, is legit. Sam, for his part, can put anyone at their ease. The two of them together have a good-cop-bad-cop routine so effective even Tony has to admire it. 

They’d argued against Tony being present- everyone was concerned about, if not the conflict of interest itself, then the optics- but he’d argued them down on the grounds that Spencer was expecting him to be there. “This guy’s more skittish than a newborn colt, let’s at least find out what’s going on before we abandon him to SHIELD’s cold, merciless embrace.”

Natasha had rolled her eyes and Sam had sighed, but they’d let him stay. Their concerns, however, turn out to be redundant. By 10:30, they’ve seen neither hide nor hair of Spencer. 

“Can’t you, I don’t know, call him, Tony?” Sam leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the gleaming wood of the long conference table they’re seated at. “Not that I don’t love all this sitting around wasting time, but-” 

Tony coughs lightly into his fist, sheepish, but reluctant to admit it. “I... may have neglected to get his phone number.” 

Sam groans, but doesn’t look all that surprised. Nat, who has been absorbed in her tablet for the last 5 minutes, reaches out and flicks Tony in the ear without looking away from her screen. 

“Ow- hey!” Tony whines. “I gave him _my_ number, ok? He can call me if he’s in trouble.” 

Sam raises his eyebrows. “And if he’s just got cold feet?” 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Well then I guess we can gather up our Senior Citizen contingent and go track him down.” Steve and Bucky were the only other ones in the Tower today; Thor was in New Asgard, Bruce was with Wanda and Vision on a mission, Rhodey had what he’d referred to as “real work” to do and was in DC, and Clint was with his family. 

Nat flicks him again, still not looking up from her tablet. Tony scowls at her and rubs his ear. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” 

“Yes,” she says, voice dry. She taps at something on her screen, then rotates it to show him and Sam. It’s a police report. “SHIELD gets pinged any time a known EI gets pulled in by regular law enforcement. Jessica Jones was taken in for questioning last night, after she called in a murder.” 

Tony’s stomach sinks. He thinks he knows where this is going. 

“They haven’t officially identified him yet, they need a family member to do that, but…” 

Tony swallows. His mouth is suddenly very dry. “It’s Spencer.” 

Nat nods. Her expression hasn’t changed, but he reads something sympathetic in her gaze, regardless. “The description matches, and that’s what Jones’ statement says. She was hired by his wife to find him.” At Tony’s confused look, she clarifies. “Jones is a PI.” 

Ah. Tony gets the Enhanced Individual reports that SHIELD provides, same as the rest of them, but unless something particularly interesting jumps out at him, he doesn’t usually remember much from them. 

Tony scrubs his hands over his face. “Dammit,” he mutters, under his breath. Sam, who had straightened up the moment Nat had shown them the police report, leans forward and grips Tony’s shoulder companionably. Tony appreciates the support, even if he doesn’t deserve it. 

The silence that has settled over the room is broken by FRIDAY’s cool tones. “Boss, some detectives from the NYPD are here. They say they have some questions for you regarding one Dr. Alec Spencer.”

Tony jolts, a little, then remembers the business card. They must have found it on Spencer’s body, if they’re here to talk to him. 

“FRIDAY, let Pepper know what’s happening, and get someone from Legal down here, please.” He looks over at Sam and Nat. Before he can ask, Nat is already nodding firmly, and Sam squeezes his shoulder again. They’re not going anywhere. Tony takes a deep breath. 

“Send New York’s finest up, FRI.”

* * *

By the time the detectives leave, Tony is at the end of his patience. He stalks off to the elevator, barely remembering to thank the person from Legal who had sat in and kept the conversation under control. Nat and Sam flank him. If they have any thoughts about what had transpired, they keep it to themselves for now. 

When the elevator doors open onto the common area, Tony steps out to find Steve and Bucky already waiting for them. Pepper must have told them what was going on. He nods tightly at them in greeting, but heads straight for the kitchenette. It’s not the first time since he sobered up that he wishes he could have a drink, but it’s the first time in a long while. He grabs himself a bottle of water, instead. He takes a sip, washing the bitter taste of adrenaline from his mouth, then holds the cool plastic against his forehead. 

“-early a set up,” Nat is saying. “No ID, few personal effects, no tech. Just Tony’s business card and a day planner with the date and time of their meeting.” 

“They’d already talked to Oscorp,” Sam adds. Gratifyingly, he sounds angry on Tony’s behalf. They’ve been working together a little over 3 years, but after Berlin- well. It sometimes takes Tony off-guard, even now, when the team closes ranks around him. 

“And Oscorp pointed them our way?” Steve asks. 

Sam hums affirmatively. “They’re claiming that Spencer told another of their employees he was jumping ship to Stark Industries. The other employee reported him, and he was fired a little over a week before he tracked Tony down. They didn’t seem all that convinced when Tony said Monday was the first time he’d ever met Spencer.” 

“Of course they didn’t,” Bucky says, voice wry. 

“So what’s next? Do we get SHIELD into it?” That's Steve again. 

Nat nods. “His conversation with Tony is more than enough for them to claim jurisdiction. Throw in another EI’s involvement, with Jones finding the body? No problem. I’ll call Maria in a minute.” 

“Will Jones be a problem for us?” 

Nat shakes her head. “She does her own thing. The closest she’s ever come to being on our radar was the business with Midland Circle a few years ago, but aside from that she does her job and keeps her nose clean.” 

Steve nods, accepting that, then notices Tony watching. “You alright, Tony?” 

Tony puffs out a breath, noisily, but actually considers the question. “Yeah. Thinking about flying over to Oscorp and punching Norman in his pointy face, but otherwise.” 

Steve cracks a grin at that. “Well, let’s hold off on any face-punching until Stark Industries’ name is clear.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“Well, I for one am thankful for your restraint, Captain.” That’s Pepper, stepping out of the hallway that leads to her and Tony’s room. She crosses the room to where Tony stands, then leans into his side. He winds his arm around her, turning his head slightly to breathe in her calming scent.

Pepper’s sharp eyes find Nat. “Anything Stark Industries can do, you let me know. I know we have to stay clear of the investigation, but you’ll have our full cooperation.” 

Nat nods her thanks. “You do have to stay clear of this now, Tony. You realize that, right?” 

Tony’s grip on Pepper’s waist tightens, reflexively. He tenses, then deflates. “I know. I’ll be a good boy and stay in time-out.” 

“I think it’s a good idea if all of us stay out of it, as much as possible.” Steve interjects here, his voice kind. “Nat, you coordinate with SHIELD, but let’s keep this above-board. It can’t look like the Avengers are going after Tony’s competitors.” 

“It’d help if his competitors weren’t all evil,” Sam jokes. “Seriously, it’s getting kind of weird. Is there something in the water at your billionaire club, Tony?” 

Tony cracks a smile. “I think the kids these days are calling it "privilege".” 

“Well, someone should do something about that.”

“Didn’t you hear about the Blackpoole thing?” Nat asks, smirking. “Seems like someone is. You’ll never guess what they’re calling him, either-” 

Tony lets the conversation flow over him, not really paying attention, allowing the warming presence of his friends and teammates to leech the last of his anger and guilt from him. It’ll come back, he knows, but for now he relaxes into Pepper’s side, takes another sip of water, and pushes the rest of it away, for the moment.

* * *

Tony manages to put the Spencer investigation out of his mind. The rest of his week is a busy one, working on upgrades to Rhodey’s armor while the man himself is away kissing politician ass on the team’s behalf. Steve and Sam leave for a short mission; Bruce, Viz, and Wanda return. He's got to sign a bunch of stuff for Pepper and Happy, something to do with tour groups and security upgrades- he doesn't know. He trusts them to deal with it, whatever it is, and signs what they hand him.

Clint calls him on Saturday- his daughter is interested in archery, and good at it to boot. With her birthday coming up, Clint asks Tony if he can build Lila some arrows with a little bit more pizzazz than the ones they practice with at home. Tony has more fun than he’d like to admit designing arrows that explode harmlessly into glitter upon impact, blast the _My Little Pony; Friendship is Magic_ theme song as they’re flying through the air, or throw off flashing, multicolored lights once loosed. 

By the time Monday rolls around, Tony has almost completely forgotten that both he and his company are under investigation for possible involvement in a murder. This, he reflects later, was probably a mistake. If he’d kept that in mind, he might not have been so caught off guard when the video hits the internet. 

Someone streams it to Youtube, because of course they do. 

The shaky footage shows a man, tall and handsome, though his face is screwed up in rage so potent it's difficult to tell. He’s breathing hard, staring down the terrified looking barista in front of him, as people gather around, pointing and muttering. He’s wearing a Stark Industries branded jacket, and FRIDAY quietly informs Tony that the man is an employee in Product Development. She’d interrupted him in his lab to notify him that her algorithms had picked up the live video as it wracked up views, less than a minute after posting. 

Probably something to do with the video title: _STARK EMPLOYEE LOSES IT??? LIVE BREAKDOWN!!!_

The man- Dr. Richard Siemmens, FRIDAY supplies- shouts something unintelligible, distorted through the phone’s microphone, and lunges across the counter. The barista scrambles back, barely escaping the man’s grasping hands. Two bystanders, college-aged looking kids in track pants and NYU hoodies, jump in then, pulling him away from the counter. 

Screams ring out through the crowd, deafening even through the tinny quality of the video, as Siemmens rips himself away from them, pivots on his heel to swipe a fork from a nearby table, and stabs it through one of the kids’ eyes. 

Tony’s blood roars in his ears. “FRIDAY, get this video taken down now, I don’t care what laws you have to break!” He grabs his nanoparticle housing unit from the stand he keeps it on, waving a hand so one of the lab's huge, floor to ceiling windows slides up. He slaps it onto his chest as he leaps, and feels the nanotech envelop him before he even begins to fall. 

He pulls up the details of the video- Siemmens is less than two blocks away, according to the location info FRIDAY provides. Tony blasts off, shooting a message to the rest of the team as he goes. 

In the suit, it takes less than 30 seconds to get there. He can see people running from the building and out onto the street. Horns fill the air as people dash out into traffic in their haste to get away, and Tony lands in time to catch an SUV before it slams into a sobbing woman and the toddler she has scooped in her arms. 

He sets the car down, then turns toward the coffee shop. Someone has thrown a table through the window, and he can clearly see Siemmens as he kicks wildly at a body lying prone on the ground. 

Siemmens raises a fist, light glinting off the table knife he’s clutching, and brings it down. Tony closes the space between them in less than a second, catching his fist before it can reach his victim. He yanks Siemmens to the side, then hurls him out the gaping hole where the window used to be and into the street, away from the remaining folks trapped in the coffee shop. 

“FRIDAY, emergency services better already be on their way,” Tony pants, as he blasts out after Siemmens. 

“They are, boss,” Friday confirms. “Less than two minutes out.” 

“Good, make sure they know to head into the shop first. We’re looking at four, maybe five severely injured, at least.” He thinks about the bodies he’d seen scattered on the ground around Siemmens. The man worked fast. 

Siemmens is getting to his feet, heedless of the blood streaming from his scraped-raw face- he’d slid across the pavement when he’d landed. One of his arms, the one Tony had thrown him by, looked to be dislocated. To Tony’s astonishment, he grips it with his good hand and shoves, popping the limb back into place. Then, he lifts his face to the sky and lets out a roar that makes the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stand on end. 

The sound is barely identifiable as human. 

Siemmens charges. Tony catches him by his wrists, attempting to hold him in place. Siemmens flexes his arms, and in doing so nearly yanks Tony off his feet. Tony reforms his boots, locking himself in place with nanoparticle hooks that sink into the concrete. 

“FRIDAY, who’s on their way?” Tony pants. Even in the suit, he’s struggling to hold Siemmens still. 

“Black Widow is rounding the corner now, Boss, and Scarlet Witch is en-route. Vision and Bruce Banner are on standby.” 

“Tell Bruce to send Viz over with one of Cap’s sedatives. We’re going to need it. Patch me through to Nat and Wanda.” 

“Got it, Boss.” 

There’s a crackle in his earpiece, then he hears Nat’s smooth voice. 

“Got some staffing issues, Stark?” 

“And this even with mandatory seminars on managing stress in the workplace, too.” Tony says. 

He can hear the metal of his suit creaking as Siemmens struggles against his hold. Siemmens kicks out, and it’s only the hasty diversion of particles from his torso that keeps his kneecap from being shattered. Even with that, he feels the impact ripple up his leg. He looks down, briefly. The metal joint is dented. 

“You’ve got him, Tony? I want to get some of these civilians out of the way so first responders can get through.” 

Tony grits his teeth, then sends nanoparticles flowing away from him to form cuffs around Siemmens' legs. They lock him to the ground with anchoring hooks, similar to those keeping Tony in place. 

“I’ve got him- not sure for how long though. I think we can safely say we’re dealing with an enhanced individual here.” 

Siemmens roars again. The concrete around his feet begins to crack. 

“You look like you could use some help, Stark.” A lightly accented voice cuts in, and red light wraps around Siemmens, finally stilling his movements. The man's eyes bulge out, his mouth opening to let out another of those terrible cries, but Wanda’s power flows up his body, clamping his jaw shut. Tony gives it a moment, to be sure, then releases his wrists, calling back the nanoparticles anchoring Siemmens to the ground. 

Wanda lands lightly beside him, eyes glowing faintly. 

Tony touches her wrist, briefly, in thanks. “Vision’s bringing some of Cap’s sedatives,” he says. She nods, not looking away from her captive. 

“Stark- his mind. It’s… chaos. He’s overcome with rage, there’s nothing left. No memory, no personality. Just anger.” 

Tony stops himself from shivering. “Like the Hulk?” 

“No. The Hulk can think, can reason. He’s a person, albeit a more... outwardly emotional one than Bruce. There’s nothing left of this man.” 

Tony opens his mouth to reply, then notices that the amount of blood on Siemmens’ face has increased. 

“Wanda!” 

She looks closer, then gasps. Siemmens is bleeding from his eyes. A split second after that registers, foam begins to leak through his lips. 

Wanda lifts her magic, stumbling away with a cry. Tony braces himself for another attack, but it doesn’t come. Siemmens falls to the ground, convulsing. Tony lurches forward, tries, fails to get a grip on his shoulders. His head hits the pavement with such force that it leaves a small crater underneath him. 

Before Tony can snap at her, Wanda pulls herself together. Slim beams of red light slide around Siemmens’ body, holding his head in place, bringing his flailing limbs under control. Tony hovers. There’s nothing he can do until the seizures stop. 

They do, eventually, after several long, agonizing minutes. Medics, whose arrival Tony hadn’t noticed, jump into action as soon as Siemmens’ body stills. They lift him onto a gurney, shouting about oxygen and whisking him off to a waiting ambulance. Tony moves to follow them, but Nat stops him. 

“I’ll stay with him. You deal with the cops.” 

Tony wants to object that she won’t be able to hold him if he wakes, but something in the look on her face stops him. She doesn’t think it’ll be a problem. Neither does he, to be honest. 

He nods, then turns toward Wanda. Vision has arrived, and is comforting her, hands on either side of her head as he speaks, too softly for Tony to hear. Her eyes are shut, and she’s trembling. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony can see several police officers approaching, faces settled into harsh masks of shock and anger. Tony gives himself a moment, then squares his shoulders, and goes to deal with the aftermath. 


End file.
